Elster's World

Sunday, June 25, 2006

Dried Up

He sat in the small office, the only illumination from the rain streaked window and the artificial glow of the computer screen. He repeated the same pattern of the last few weeks. Stare at screen, stare at walls, stare out window. Wash, rinse repeat.

There is no inspiration. Not in the trees or flowers outside the pane, nor, either, in the pouring rain. There hadn't been for too long now. All of the outlets have become one dimensional, shells of their former selves. He tapped on his creative side, digging deeper and pushing harder - but whatever it is that flips the switch, that turned the gears, lays dormant and cold.

The rain pounds. He is alone. Yet even the rare isolation does not motivate. He is in a sea of nothing, floating on empty, unformed verse. He knows this should scare the hell out of him. He doesn't know from where the muse came, does not how long she stays. Worse still, does not know when she will fly - whatever sparse "gifts" she may once had given now ruthlessly gone.

So he gets up, closes the shade and lets the computer screen go to saver and eventually fade to black. There are other things to do today, other games to play. If the muse is sleeps, then there is nothig he can do to awaken her charms. They come and go at her whimsy. They always have. It's the unspoken deal.

The Mets call. He goes.

3 Comments:

  • "He tapped on his creative side, digging deeper and pushing harder - but whatever it is that flips the switch, that turned the gears, lays dormant and cold."

    Beautiful. Thank you.

    By Blogger Sara, at 1:33 PM  

  • uch, i hate that feeling even more than rejection letters!!!!!

    By Blogger bec, at 5:15 PM  

  • I'm pretty sure it's temporary. At least I HOPE it is.

    By Blogger Elster, at 5:17 PM  

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